In The Water
by Sarah Bart
Summary: What does the man who can control time do in his free time? One-shot, takes place right after "Amy's Choice"; may contain spoilers.


The Doctor pulled down a lever and the whir of the Tardis hushed. They were now floating in orbit around the second moon of Jupiter.

"This seems like a nice place to stop for a bit," He said, turning towards Amy, only to see her sound asleep on the floor. She'd had a rough day. Rory was asleep beside her arm protectively gathered around her waist. The encounter with the Dream Lord had left all of them, despite the inadvertent naps, exhausted. Rory snuggled into Amy's neck as she curled back into him like a cat. The Doctor watched this with satisfaction. He was happy to see these two had made up the Angels and Venice. In spite of how different they seemed, he could see the connection, **the love**, that ran deep between them.

_A love that's been there so long, it's sometimes taken for granted_, the Doctor thought. He was happy Amy had picked Rory. The Doctor had had enough of complicated relationships with earthlings. He thought he could've handled it with Rose, but in the end it had become all blundered and difficult. Hell, he'd nearly, literally, torn the universe apart for her. What relationship needs that type of baggage?

It's not that Amy wasn't attractive. She just seemed so… so young. In spite of the fact that his regenerations seemed to be decreasing in age, the Doctor never felt as old as he did now, as if every action from his past was coming back to haunt him.

_Maybe that's what the crack in space and time was?..._

He flipped a switch, and soft music filled the console room.

"Sweet Dreams, you two," he said to the sleeping couple. The Doctor headed out of the room to recuperate his way.

The greatest difference between the Time Lords and any other species in the universe is the lack of hobbies; Time Lords have none. Almost every species encountered has a hobby or sport they enjoy. The Jahoon battle in fights to the death for fun. The Chula have an industry built around their passion for shell collecting. Even the Daleks have made a hobby of thinking of ways to destroy the Doctor. On every planet, in every culture, every species has a way in which they relax, have fun, and enjoy themselves in their spare time. But for a species with unlimited control of time and space, none of it is available to waste. Time Lords have no spare time.

The first time the Doctor had learned at the academy about the "time-wasting" done by other planets he was upset. How dare they use something so precious trifling! If they could see the limits of time and space, they would budget every second, _every nanosecond_, to get the most out of it. However, after traveling the galaxy and seeing these different activities, the Doctor had noticed something: they were happy. All these little, unimportant hobbies made even the most desolate lives bearable.

The doctor smiled as he pulled down his braces and unknotted his bow tie. He thought back to a day long ago, watching a football match in a pub in Birmingham. There had been no important discoveries that day, no mind-blowing conversations or revelations, only a few pints and a lot of cheers. That was the first time the Doctor had ever _wasted_ time and, he had to admit, he had rather enjoyed himself doing it.

"Andiamo!" the Doctor yelled as he jumped, naked, into the swimming pool. He'd been hard pressed to find it for weeks. He'd almost given up hope, deciding it must've ended up on the outside of the ship. It had finally turned up with the billiards table floating in it. The Pool Room had _literally_ become the Pool Room. The Doctor floated in silence and tossed the seven and nine balls into the air, catching it each time. He stretched out and floated peacefully. He dove down quickly, picking up the cue ball from the bottom. As he rose back to the surface, he closed his eyes and let his senses take over. His ears lay just below the surface of the water, increasing the quiet. He could only hear his breathing and his heartbeats. A sound was rising, the sound of his head. All the thoughts and feelings in his mind were rising to the surface and becoming tangible. The clamor became louder as memories began to come forth. The Doctor furrowed his brow, expelling what he could from his head, concentrating only on his breathing. In a soft low voice, the doctor began to say a string of Gallifreyan words, repeating them over and over. He meditated on the words he was saying. His tongue flicked slightly with each quiet syllable. The words fought with the worry, stress, and bad memories trying in their invasion. As the din reached a fever pitch, he exhaled loudly and it was gone.

Stillness once again filled the cavernous room. Warm waves of calm fell over the Doctor's body and mind. His eyes remained close and the comforting smell of chlorine filled his nostrils. He floated on the water's surface, thinking about nothing except getting pruney.

"Doctor," Amy walked through the halls of the Tardis. "Doctor." She pushed open the Pool Room door and saw the Doctor lying there like a corpse. A corpse with a smile. He opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly.

" 'Allo."

"There you are!" She crossed her arms. "Are you done playing with your balls?" The Doctor looked down at his chest; he was still holding the seven, nine, and cue ball.

"Yes," he sighed. "I believe I am. Pond, would you mind grabbing me a towel." Amy handed the Doctor a towel as he emerged from the pool. Wrapping it around his hips, he thanked her and gathered up his clothes and headed toward his berth. Amy stood in the doorway shaking her head.

"Would it kill you to buy swim trunks?" she yelled after him.

"Maybe" he called back, smirking.


End file.
